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    A Man Called Nash
    A Man Called Nash
    A Man Called Nash
    Ebook202 pages2 hours

    A Man Called Nash

    By Deborah Scruggs-Cox

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    About this ebook

    Printed here for the first time, this heart-warming true story of Professor W.E. “Willie” Nash and his wife Willa, is told by Mr. Scruggs and his daughter Deborah Scruggs-Cox. The author and his daughter both share other stories, political and historical references exhibiting the struggles faced by Professor Nash and other blacks in the South following Reconstruction and extending into the 20th century.

    Deborah Scruggs-Cox has brought to light the manuscript of her father, Eugene L. Scruggs. She has added additional facts and pictures making it possible for all to enjoy.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDeborah Scruggs-Cox
    Release dateJul 1, 2011
    ISBN9781452458038
    A Man Called Nash
    Author

    Deborah Scruggs-Cox

    Deborah Scruggs-Cox is the daughter of the late Eugene L. Scruggs and Ora Scruggs of Niota, Tennessee. Her parents instilled in her a sense of passion for reading, writing and learning. They recognized her abilities and potential at an early age and helped her to cultivate it. She began her early education in the Niota Elementary School system, which is located in Niota, Tennessee and later at McMinn County High School. With a thirst for learning and a desire to go further, she graduated from Hiwassee College and, later, Big Bend Community College. Afterwards, she had a desire to “see the world” and “be all that she could be,” so, she enlisted in the military and was given the opportunity to advance her studies, travel and to “see the world.” After having served many years in the service, she decided to join the ranks of corporate America and broaden her horizons further still. She is currently pursuing her Graduate degree and is Director of Veterans Affairs for McMinn County, where she resides with her husband.

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      Book preview

      A Man Called Nash - Deborah Scruggs-Cox

      Acknowledgments

      We would like to recognize, acknowledge, and applaud all of the people who helped make this book possible. We cannot name you all for fear of omitting someone, but you know who you are. We salute you and are honored to serve with you on this noble mission of educating the public on the importance and benefits of knowing history; whether it is oral or written.

      Special thanks go out to Zelma McClure, Dr. John Forgety, Marquis Dotson, Sr., and Dr. Craig Rigell for all of your many endeavors that are too numerous to list. Special thanks go to Judge Steven Bebb for your superb editing skills as well as Bill Akins for your historical insight. Special thanks go out to Joe Guy, Patsy Duckworth, and Ruby Eiland for your valuable research skills. Special thanks go out to Darlene Odom-Scruggs, Connie Willis of Willis Custom Printing and Design, Mitzi Mabe and Martha Walden for your support, patience, kind words and acts of encouragement. Appreciation is also expressed to Beth Allen Mercer and staff of the Edward Gauche Fisher Library, Niota Public Library and to the staff of McMinn County Living Heritage Museum. Others providing helpful photographical assistance are: Doris Scruggs, Veronica Clark, Lisa Ramsey, Betty Porter, Sally Ealy, and Marquis Dotson, Jr. Special lifetime friends: Mart McKeehan, Leonard Brock, Charles Sloan, the late Rev. Arnold Snowden, DA Steven Bebb, the late Rev. Calvin Smith, the late Fred Smith, and the late Gene Oggs.

      The family of Eugene L. Scruggs

      About The Author

      Eugene L. Scruggs

      April 8,1926—June 22, 2002

      Author

      My father, Eugene L. Scruggs, was a native of the Lane Town Community in Niota, Tennessee. He was born, raised, and left an indelible mark as a self-taught intellectual, historian, writer, farmer, horticulturist, author, et al., and above all a friend to man. He was a veteran of World War II and the Korean War, serving in the United States Air Force, and the Army, both into which he was drafted. Afterwards, he settled on the family farm with his wife, Ora, and retired from the Tennessee Valley Authority after 28 years of dedicated service.

      He was a son of the late Annabelle and Caggie C. Scruggs Sr.; he was born into a family of 11 siblings. His surviving siblings are Virginia Wynn, Imogene Looney, Elizabeth Harris and the Rev. Caggie Scruggs Jr. He leaves behind to cherish his memory a loving wife, Ora Scruggs, and nine children: Elaine McCowan, Marcus Scruggs, the late Gregory Scruggs, Robin Smith, Callen Scruggs, Deborah Scruggs-Cox, Lenoir McCowan, Mary Elizabeth Scudder and Stevie Sharpe. At age 11, he graduated from Lane Town Elementary School, which is located outside Niota. Eleven was an early age to graduate from the eighth grade, but it would be the end of his early schooling as work on the family farm called. His formal schooling had to be set aside, but his informal education never stopped. He took a college entrance exam, passed it and enrolled and took classes at the University Of Alaska. All of his children had the opportunity to attend college and he also put two of his sisters, one of whom is a retired teacher in the Knox County School System, through college, as well. He also ensured that 20 of the kids in McMinn and Monroe counties were able to go to college, by filling out and applying for various grants and scholarships for them.

      His modesty and humility is the hallmark of his life. It embodied all that he was. He was a man of community. His poems, and especially this book, became his Magnum Opus — his greatest achievement.

      On June 22, 2002, our father passed away, and the work that he started was passed on. However, I, Deborah Scruggs-Cox, his daughter, have since acquired and incorporated some additional information, facts, and photos since the first edition in order to finalize and bring this book to completion.

      Deborah Scruggs-Cox

      November 2010

      In Memory of Pastor Gregory A. Scruggs

      Son of Eugene L. Scruggs

      September 19, 1959 - December 27, 2007

      Many people have been blessed to have been graced by his powerful, positive presence. So vital a person was he, and so much did he vitalize anyone in his company. He was an electrifying life that, thank goodness, left a spark in each whose life brushed against his for even a few moments. He helped light the way and influence and help others along their journey. He was a warm, wonderful, joyful, and sharing person. He infused the lives of many people and had a lasting impact on them. What a gift his life bestowed upon so many. He embodied personal power magnificently, he encouraged others to find their own—to go beyond their shyness, to reach out for a helping hand, or to lend support to others, preferably both. We are grateful for the gift that his life managed to grant hundreds, thousands, perhaps more.

      We will continue to honor his memory by sharing his message as best we can. In some way, he will be able to continue to touch the lives of strangers. He was wise, kind, strong, and good; he was a gift from God!

      The family of Pastor Gregory A. Scruggs

      Ingram’s Family Tree

      Family Tree of Dr. Ingram, Father of W.E. Nash

      W.E. NASH’S FAMILY TREE

      Doctor Ingram (Slave Master)

      6 Children (Slaves)

      1. Hester Ingram

      2. Van Buren Ingram

      3. Jane Ingram

      4. Anderson Ingram

      5. Abram Ingram

      6. William Ingram

      Thomas Ingram (Slave Master)

      Linda Nash (Slave)

      5 Children:

      1. W.E. Willie Nash

      2. Sam Nash

      3. Robert Nash

      4. Janie Nash

      5. Mary Nash

      Introduction

      A MAN CALLED NASH:

      HIS TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS

      As I started to write about this great man—this great educator…..his base-born heritage….his humble birth…his trials and tribulations—I felt that I had launched myself into dark’s ignorance: Out onto a sea of uncharted waters; riding it like a cork. And bobbing about on its crest, with nothing more to keep me afloat than a worm-eaten canoe, and a broken-shipped literary oar.

      I readily profess, but do not apologize for not being more erudite and literate in this endeavor, or for lacking journalistic skill and its acumen. Too, I shall readily plead guilty for conjuring up, or fostering, this burning ambition to record this great man’s name, his trials and tribulations, that they ever live in perpetuity.

      In the classroom, the community, the church – he was the rock on whom all leaned. For bright and indigent students who desired to take their education to the next level, but lacked tuitional wherewithal, he saw they received scholarships.

      He was a Virginian, yes, but moving to Athens in 1921 did not deter his civic-mindedness a whit! He launched himself into its community affairs and melded himself not only into Athens proper, but into all those in the outlying hamlets in the county, and on into all adjoining counties.

      But, to reiterate, aspiring literary pygmies—however novice their skill and even when wandering through a forest peopled with literary giants – they, too, have their egos and ambitions. These attributes may be quelled, yes, but not quenched. They were the spurs which goaded me into undertaking this ambitious enterprise.

      A few years ago, I came to know Prof. W.E. Nash, a man of humblest birth, base-born, and mudsill-ridden, a place where the more holy-than-thou had placed him by virtue of same, which was no fault of his at all.

      I, too, came of humble birth. But, unlike him, I did have a father in the home and was not base-born. Nash refused to remain on the mudsill of society, though he had neither chance nor recourse to the plentitude of food and other sundry things pertinent to a well-rounded childhood. He emerged into a world of extreme poverty, born on a pallet placed in the corner of the kitchen floor.

      Here, I lay no claim or assertion as being a peer among the giants of literary accomplishment. For, like the man whom I purport here to write about, I am but an humble pygmy struggling among the world’s giant towers of literary achievers.

      Having known this great man for most of my life I learned of his life’s struggles – and how, like the Phoenix, he arose from the ashes of direst poverty and ignorance to soar among the lofty mountainous peaks and crags in pursuit of educational enlightenment. It was a man’s life story worthy of being told, and I’ve set it down just as he told it to me.

      Eugene L. Scruggs

      Chapter 1

      1887—Reconstruction/Post-Slavery Era

      Lunenburg County, Virginia

      Birthplace of W.E. Nash

      In the post-slavery period and its Reconstruction era, in a log cabin couched somewhere on the sloped-foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountain’s towering peaks, there lived a woman who was young in years but was old and stooped from the laborious demands of slavery.

      Her name was Ellen and she was to become the matriarch of the Nash clan. Ellen was black, as all slaves were. Even if there was so little as 1/32nd of African blood coursing through their veins, they were still black! She, having taken the name of her master, Nash, at the end to slavery passed it on to her children.

      During the time of slavery and on into the Reconstruction period, Ellen was the cook. This art she learned at her mother’s knee, although her mother’s name is no longer remembered. It is no little wonder that Ellen became the cook when her mother’s infirms no longer permitted her to carry on her Big House duties.

      The food which Ellen cooked was for the master and his family. There were few crumbs, if any, that ever found their way into the stomachs of Ellen’s family.

      Yes, Emancipation, Jubilee—or whatever the slaves called it—was glorious! But, it carried a hell of a price. And that price was: RESPONSIBILITY! Responsibility for the welfare of one’s self, whereas, in the other life, it was the Ole Master’s responsibility to care for his stock, as slaves were called; a classification with horses and cows.

      Oh, don’t misunderstand me—foraging for edible roots, nuts and wild greens was common. The creeks and brooks of any size were ever gorged with hooks, lines, sinkers, and bare feet

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